


Bring me home

by alternate_me



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short, as much angst-free as it can get in the universe of Black Sails, at some point between s3 and s4, domestic pirates that's what i mean, kinda domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternate_me/pseuds/alternate_me
Summary: Just the beginning of an usual day for pirate husbands.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	Bring me home

**Author's Note:**

> It takes place between s3 and s4, and overall there are few spoilers. Also, I finally wrote one from Flint's pov.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

Flint could always tell when he was awake because of the swing of the ship. In his dreams, there was no rhythmic movement, a movement he would forget in most parts of the day, but that he would always notice right before he opened his eyes. Before he could see his cabin, or the color of the sky, he felt the ship moving over the infinite ocean beneath it.

When he felt it, he knew he could expect water in all directions, he knew it would be another day that asked of him sharp leadership abilities, confident affirmations and maybe a risky fight over a pillage. Feeling the movement of the ship used to be simply an indication of another day of labor when he was part of the British Navy. Now, it meant another day as Captain Flint.

In those blurry moments right before wakening, when our conscience of ourselves begins to take shape, sometimes it was inevitable that his first thought would be about abandoning Thomas, or seeing Miranda – static, pale, a hole on her forehead bleeding to the wooden floor. It made sense, as it defined so much of what he was then. But those weren’t always his first thoughts. And he was thankful for it. 

After the sense of movement, the next thing he would do was listening. The movement of the water faintly pushing against the ship and being pushed back in an endless cycle, which would drive him mad some days for its monotonous pattern, and on others would calm him for the familiarity it brought him. The sea was both his cage and his home. Then, there came the smell. Salt, mostly, but also wet wood and mold and sweat - and sometimes blood. And at last, right before opening his eyes, the feeling of whatever his hands reached.

That morning, in specific, his hand moved slightly over a thick lock of hair. He closed his fingers around it, striking it absently. A slight smile appeared on his lips.

“Why do you always have to wake so fucking early?” after the sound of water, Silver’s voice, harsh from sleep, was the first thing he listened to clearly on that day.

Flint finally opened his eyes, meeting the back of John’s head, his dark, long hair falling in countless locks over the bunk they shared in his cabin. He moved, smoothly, to hug John from behind, which was the position he guessed they had fallen asleep last night, after two bottles of rum - one of which still lay half empty on the floor. 

Silver didn’t oppose to it. He stretched slightly, his muscles sore from the not so comfortable improvised bed, and also from all the fighting on the previous day - when they had boarded a merchant ship whose men weren’t so happy about giving up their goods. Flint felt John’s body relaxing under his touch, allowing himself to be completely engulfed by his embrace. John sighed in slight satisfaction. 

“Well, I’d say that pirates are usually early birds” Flint whispered in John’s ear.

“Well, I’m a pirate. Actually, the king of pirates” Flint rolled his eyes, it was amazing how many times Silver would bring that up after the creation of the whole “Long John Silver” shit.

“And I, as king-” 

Sometimes, Flint was certain it was just to provoke him.

“I shall institute an order that no one is to get up before 10 a.m.” Silver continued, words leaving his lips in a low and lazy tone “Now, I’m going to sleep for five more minutes, think you can go about your business alone for that long without anyone wanting to kill you?”

Silver went quiet after that, it really looked like he had gone back to sleep. A devilish smile passed over Flint’s face, and he started pulling Silver’s hair slightly to the side, so he could place slow, soft kisses to his exposed neck. John moved slightly under his touch, groaning, not entirely on protest.

“You may be the pirate king, _Long John Silver_ ” Flint said teasingly to John’s ear “but I’m still your captain” he said, his last words a little muffled by John’s skin as Flint nibbled slightly on some well-known sensitive spots of his.

“Well, I’m _obviously_ not complaining” Silver responded, suddenly sounding much more disposed. 

He turned around to meet Flint’s lips with his. They kissed for a long moment, still moving slowly, in that characteristic laziness and peace of mind you can only enjoy in a calm morning. Flint could still taste the bitter rum in Silver’s tongue, but that was the last thing he cared about at that moment. 

They parted for a moment, Flint still held the side of John’s face, now smoothly placing a stubborn lock of hair behind his ear. The rising sun shot rays of lights through the window, they fell on Silver’s face, and Flint admired the light they shone on those deep blue eyes – deep and blue like the Caribbean Sea in a sunny morning. 

Flint moved closer, holding John tight by the waist, which was when Silver winced at his touch, making the captain instantly pull his hand back.

“Sorry, I forgot” he said. 

The crew of the merchant ship they had boarded was hardly good at fighting, but Silver somehow had got himself a deep cut on the side of his waist. That night, in the captain’s cabin, while John tended poorly to his wound, it had earned him a scolding by Flint on the necessity of him learning how to defend himself. Flint had also muttered, after quite some rum, that, if it came to it, he himself would teach Silver how to fight properly. 

“Let me take a look at it” Flint said, sitting on the bunk.

Silver hesitated for a moment, but quickly pulled his shirt up to expose the bandaged cut. Flint squinted, his hand moving smoothly over Silver’s skin around the wound.

“How drunk were you when you made this?”

“It was your rum, so I would be more cautious on throwing the blame at me like this” 

Flint smiled at the comeback. He moved over the bunk and got up, a little unbalanced at the first steps. 

“So, as it was _my_ rum, I think I’m obliged to tend to the damage it’s caused” he said, as he moved across the cabin to get a recipient with water and a dry cloth.

Silver slowly sat on the bunk, wincing. He watched as Flint placed the objects on the table near the bunk, and then moved to one of the drawers at his desk to get a few clean bandages. Were it a few weeks ago, John would probably have protested and claimed he didn’t need any help. Were it at the presence of any other person, on the present day, he would probably have said the same. Flint felt how close they’d gotten over the past months, and he knew, at those moments, the feeling was mutual. There was no space for daylight, shame, or pride between them any longer.

The captain moved back to the bunk, standing before John with the now wet cloth on his hand. He looked down at his quartermaster. 

“Loose the shirt”

He could predict the comeback before it left Silver’s lips.

“I love it when you get all commanding, captain” 

That little shit.

When Flint said nothing, John sighed.

“Guess rum makes you funnier” he said, as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

Flint carefully untied the bandage over Silver’s waist, which made him wince slightly. He cleaned the wound, smoothly, slowly, trying to apply no more pressure than necessary, washing the cloth when it got tainted with blood. The wound had been deeper than he had anticipated. 

“You know, I was joking when I told you I would teach you how to fight, but you might actually need it” he said, placing the bandages over the wound and pulling it around Silver’s waist to tie it firm and properly. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting stabbed less” Silver said, looking down at the concise work Flint had done “We can consider it next time we are on land. I’m pretty sure you will be great as an instructor. Patience is, after all, one of your many virtues”

Flint scoffed as John placed his hands on his waist, pulling him closer.

“Although you _have_ been more patient with me these days” he said, his mouth teasing, inches away from Flint’s “Are you growing soft on me?”

“You wish” Flint managed to say before Silver pulled him into a kiss.

They parted as John’s hands got under Flint’s shirt, palpating his skin, stopping himself as he got to the scars.

“Guess you tend to wounds so well because you’ve had some practice” he said, running his fingers smoothly over the scarred surface, almost as smoothly as his voice was at that moment “Would it be wise to trust an instructor with so many scars?”

It was Flint’s time to pull Silver into a kiss. One had to do it, occasionally, so he would shut up.

When they finally parted, it wasn’t without hesitation. At those moments, as they looked at each other, it was painful clear in Silver’s eyes that he didn’t want to get away from Flint, but also that he couldn’t do so. If Flint could look at himself, he would find the same look on his eyes.

Eventually, they put on the rest of their clothes and headed out to the deck. The day had started, and they had important plans to get to - preparing for the taking of Nassau and many other battles to come. 

But they would find harbor again at night, in each other’s arms. Unceasing reassurance and stark necessity. Both a cage, and a home.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it, guys. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Please, let me know what you think <3


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